I was buried waist-deep in the cold garden soil while my husband beat my exposed pregnant belly with a wooden stick. Dirt and insects crawled over my skin as he laughed.

With Julian locked away in maximum security, Eleanor Vance found herself entirely alone, watching her family empire collapse like a house of cards.

The bank froze her corporate accounts following our civil fraud lawsuit, and her high-society friends abandoned her overnight.

Desperate people make catastrophic mistakes.

On a cold Tuesday evening, three weeks before my due date, Claire was walking to her car in the parking lot of a local grocery store when a dark sedan pulled up beside her.

The rear window rolled down, revealing Eleanor Vance sitting in the back seat, her face hollow and drawn.

“Claire,” Eleanor called out, her voice slick with desperation. “I know you’re a sensible woman. You’re a schoolteacher, aren't you? Living on a modest salary?”

Claire stopped, keeping her hand inside her purse where her finger rested on her emergency panic button. “What do you want, Eleanor?”

Eleanor slid a thick black leather briefcase across the leather seat. She unzipped it slightly, revealing stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Eleanor whispered, her eyes burning with fanatic intensity. “In cash. Untraceable. All you have to do is take the stand next week and state that you misheard the audio, that Elena asked Julian to build that garden trench, and that Julian was acting in self-defense.”

Claire looked at the money, then at Eleanor’s cold, withered face.

“You really think everyone has a price, don't you?” Claire asked softly.

“Everyone has a price, darling,” Eleanor sneered. “Take the money, or I will make sure your teaching license is revoked by the end of the month.”

Claire didn't argue. She simply pulled her hand out of her purse, holding up a small black lapel pin equipped with a live microphone and camera, linked directly to Detective Miller’s desk at headquarters.

“You should have known, Eleanor,” Claire smiled calmly. “Elena taught me how to record everything.”

Before Eleanor could scream at her driver to speed away, three unmarked police SUVs boxed the sedan in from the front and rear.

Siren blares filled the parking lot. Detective Miller and four federal agents stepped out with drawn weapons.

“Eleanor Vance!” Detective Miller commanded. “Step out of the vehicle with your hands up! You are under arrest for felony witness tampering, bribery, and obstruction of justice!”

Eleanor collapsed into the leather seat, weeping hysterically as agents pulled her out into the cold night air, slapping handcuffs over her diamond-encrusted bracelets.

That night, watching the news coverage of Eleanor’s arrest from my bed at Mia’s house, a sharp, sudden pain tightened across my lower back.

I gasped, gripping the edge of the mattress.